Leanne Shapton is both a writer and an illustrator, and a competitive swimmer too. In her marvelous memoir Swimming Studies, she writes lyrically of the solitude of competitive swimming, the sensation of being underwater and alone, the zen of becoming one with the water, of how you stand vulnerable, naked and wet in front of coaches. She accompanies her memories with resonate water-colors and impressionistic sketches of swimmers arched in the pool.
And the sounds! “A low thump as her hands hit the touchpad. Brief cheering at an intake of breath, collapsing into bubbles as her head, aligned and steady, dips back and under again at the turn. This is followed immediately by quiet. There is a rippling during the long stroke of her underwater pullout, a tight, thin sigh of effort, a gruff exhalation of air, a grunt at the dolphin kick. As her head breaks the surface, the roar of the crowd is, with each breath, loud then quiet, loud then quiet; a chorus of warbled pops and splashing bursts against the sides of her cap.”
And the smells! She has a section in the book called “Fourteen Odors,” cataloguing the myriad smells one encounters in swimming. In a marvelous piece of synesthesia — a perceptual phenomenon in which one sense kindles sensation in another, so for example, smells can be seen as colors, or words can have taste, or tastes can be felt as textures on your fingertips — Shapton lists and illustrates fourteen significant odors that define her swimming experience.
These odors are illustrated in the small ovals in the two pages above. I’m going to list those here, then afterwards offer a list of 14 odors of my own.
- Clarkson High School parking lot, 4:52 a.m.: wet brick, notes of rubber, gasoline, and cigarettes
- Teammate’s hair: Finesse conditioner circa 1987, released when hair is pulled out, damp, from a tight ponytail
- Mother’s breath: Coffee, warm skin, sweat belt, wet acrylic mitten, resignation, Nivea Creme undertone
- Duffel bag pocket: Tangy nylon, porcini. Hint of oats and semisweet chocolate chip
- Wrist beneath watch strap: Vaseline Intensive Care, iodine and banana
- Parka hem: Apple core, halogen, polyester shearling, dried ketchup
- Sit-ups partner: Tide, milk, terrier, and grape Hubba Bubba
- Wet team towel: Heavy notes of chlorine, light notes of garlic, lakeside dock, and brown bread
- Ladies’ locker room toilet stall: Bleach, baby powder, mild urine, and faint ammonia
- Coach: Fresh laundry, windbreaker nylon, Mennen Speed Stick, Magic Marker, and bologna
- Pillow: Chlorine: mildew, faint clove, and starchy mucus scent
- Male teammate: Blue cheese, Polo cologne, suntan lotion, fenugreek
- Fingernail: Chlorine, barbecue potato chip, wool mitten
- Silver medal: Petroleum, nylon, mineral water, and strawberry
Now 14 odors of my own that take on a Proustian vibe. Just as the taste/smell of a madeline dipped into linden tea suddenly transported Proust to his childhood in rural France, compelling him to write seven volumes of Remembrance of Things Past, so too do these odors immediately conjure up for me a specific memory of a particular place and time. You have your own list of 14 odors that can transport you far beyond your immediate present. Share them with me here.
- Telephone poles oozing creosote on a hot day
- Wet sawdust from a dorm construction site on my first day as a freshman in college
- Patchouli oil conjuring up hippie life in the 70s
- Polo in a distinctive green bottle with a silhouetted rider on horseback
- Old English cologne in high school in a solid squat bottle with wooden stopper
- My mother’s rose perfume in a gold palm-size heart-shaped bottle
- Back of my mother’s knees as I stood next to her at the age of 4
- My hand against tomato leaves, releasing earthy, viney oils
- Johnson & Johnson powder and baby oil as the essence of infant
- Musty books
- Pine needles heated by a South Carolina sun
- Crushed and sheared mint in the lawn after the mower passes through
- Freshly cut grass that releases the same chemicals found in semen
- Shoving my face into a pot of chrysanthemums
And your 14 odors?
Ben Wiley is a retired professor of film and literature at St. Petersburg College. He also was on staff in the Study Abroad Office at University of South Florida as statewide Director of the Florida Consortium/University of Cambridge (UK) International Summer Schools. His interests are in film, books, theatre, travel, literacy programs, kayaking Florida rivers. Contact him here.
This article appears in Apr 26 – May 3, 2018.
